


The Heartbreak That Aches Far Too Much To Be Shunned

by Casual_Scribbles



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Grief/Mourning, Major character death - Freeform, Other, Polymechs - Freeform, Post-The Bifrost Incident, They love each other shut up, bifrost fuckery, discovery of immortality, its okay though they get better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27384430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casual_Scribbles/pseuds/Casual_Scribbles
Summary: Just as Marius turns, their legs crumple beneath them and hitting the ground jars something and oh. Oh, gods. The static crescendos and cuts out, replaced by the screaming of the wound torn through them. It hurts. It hurts so much and they don’t know how they didn’t notice it before. They press their hand to their abdomen with a cry. They don’t have to look to know that it's slick with blood.
Relationships: Lyfrassir Edda/The Mechanisms Ensemble, The Aurora/Nastya Rasputina, The Mechanisms Ensemble/The Mechanisms Ensemble
Comments: 13
Kudos: 140





	The Heartbreak That Aches Far Too Much To Be Shunned

**Author's Note:**

> Let me preface this by saying this does incorporate headcannons that started out as a silly catboy lyfrassir joke on a discord but got taken seriously and it's actually better than it sounds. I'm also very much in love with the "[insert fantasy species here] can purr" concept so that was included. Just trust me.
> 
> cw:  
> major character death  
> detailed description of grief  
> unreality (beginning at "Lyfrassir doesn't know where they are" and ending around "and then something breaks through")
> 
> (Title from Farewell Wanderlust by The Amazing Devil)

The planet is alight with gunfire and explosions. Lyf isn’t quite sure how a simple bar fight escalated to- well, to _this_ , but they’re having fun, so they’re not exactly complaining. They pound down the street, Marius running beside them, passing a burning warehouse courtesy of one Ashes O’Reilly. Marius points his pistol over his shoulder, taking down one of the officers tailing them. Lyf turns and backpedals, firing their own gun into the crowd.

“I thought you were a cop, _Inspector_?”

“Ex-cop, von Raum, and _former_ inspector. You know this,”

“Oh, of course, how could I forget?” Marius is grinning at them and if they weren’t currently fleeing from the law Lyfrassir would shoot him right here just to be petty. But they would rather not have to leave Marius here until the planet has forgotten about them _thank you very fucking much_.

“Can it, von Raum.”

There aren’t many civilians left in the streets – Jonny had gotten a head start on depopulating the planet. Not Lyf’s _favorite_ of Jonny’s brand of fun, but who are they to judge? – and those they do see are usually too preoccupied with fleeing to really get in their way.

“How far are we from the _Aurora_?”

“Not much farther, my dear Lyf, although we may want to up our pace. Not sure what mode Brian’s on right now but there is every possibility he _will_ leave us behind if he can justify it.”

“No, von Raum, he’ll leave you behind. Me, on the other hand, he couldn’t leave behind if he tried.” Even so, Lyf picks up the pace. Their legs burn with exertion, adrenaline urging them on.

“Oh, fuck off,”

They both flip each other off although neither really means it. Lyf grins. Their hair has spilled out of its carefully crafted braids and they know the crew will be fighting over who gets to fix it when they get back to the ship. A few streets away another building explodes. The officers chasing them shout orders and half of them break off in that direction. Lyf isn’t sure whether to thank Ashes or Tim for that one.

Shots crack and echo around them. Lyf cackles. They’re almost to the ship and this planet still has no idea what just hit them. They’ll just take off and the survivors will be talking for decades about a concert, a bar fight, and the chaos that followed. Just like every other visit they’ve experienced before.

They turn and fire shots off into a group of officers behind them. Another one drops and the remaining ones still have their guns raised. How ridiculous – haven’t they realized those don’t do anything? Marius was shot at the beginning of this whole affair and he got right back up five minutes later. The stains are even still on his shirt. Shame, he’d liked that shirt if Lyf remembered correctly.

The officers fire again as Lyf turns around. Rainbow spots flash in their vision and static fills their ears and they miss a step. Shit. Now is _not_ the time for Bifrost fuckery.

“Keep up, Lyfrassir!” Marius crows, pulling ahead.

They stagger forward, shaking their head and blinking hard through the rainbow, then rebalance and keep running. They can worry about the Bifrost later. Right now, they just have to get back to the ship.

Lyf flips Marius off again, even though they know he can’t see it. More shots echo off the crumbling brick buildings and shadows come alive, dancing away from the light of Ashes’ fires. Lyf can see the _Aurora_ waiting for them at the dock. Ivy darts up the ramp with what looks like an armful of books. Nastya’s standing at the base firing shots at anyone who has the audacity to even look at the _Aurora_.

“Almost there!” They can barely hear themself over the static. There’s an explosion behind them and Lyf can just barely make out Tim’s wild laughter. They look back and they’re not being followed. The explosion took out the remaining officers. Their legs hurt and they’re hot and cold – honestly what’s the deal with this planet’s climate? – but the ship is right there and finally, _finally_ they set foot on the ramp.

Gunpowder Tim darts up the ramp with an absolutely feral grin, Jonny right on his heels. Lyf slows, sucking in air but it feels _wrong_ and the static is getting louder and something _hurts_. They reach out a hand, snagging their fingers in Marius’ sleeve. He can help, he’s a doctor. “von Raum,”

Just as Marius turns, their legs crumple beneath them and hitting the ground jars something and _oh_. _Oh, gods_. The static crescendos and cuts out, replaced by the screaming of the wound torn through them. It hurts. It hurts so much and they don’t know how they didn’t notice it before. They press their hand to their abdomen with a cry. They don’t have to look to know that it's slick with blood.

“Lyf? Lyfrassir, what’s- oh god, oh god, no no no, Lyf come on,”

Lyf digs their fingers into Marius’ arm. They can feel the wound throbbing, burning, tearing through their body. It must have happened when they tripped. That’s when the static started, when the rainbows flared in their vision. “Marius it hurts. Oh, gods, it hurts,”

Marius drops down next to them, hands fluttering, eyes wide. “I know, I know, Lyf but it’s- it’s gonna be okay. I promise. I promise, it’s gonna be okay, Lyf,” He pulls off his jacket and presses it to the wound on Lyf’s abdomen to try and stem the bleeding, wincing at Lyf’s pained cry. He looks up, wild-eyed. Lyf just clutches his arm and tries not to scream. “Raphaella! Raph!” Marius’ shout startles them and the sudden movement makes the screaming louder. They cry out, digging into Marius’ arm. Their fingers leave oil-slick streaks of blood on his shirt. Their tongue tastes like oil and iron.

A sudden wind stirs their hair – they just want someone to rebraid their hair, the crew was going to fight over the privilege when they got back – and Raphaella comes into view. “Oh- oh, god-“

Marius clutches Raphaella’s arm. “You have to get us to the medbay, _fast_. Raph I can’t carry them and run and they can’t- they just- they just _collapsed_ \- please Raph-“

“Okay,” Raph’s voice is small. “Okay,” She scoops them up. They cry out at the sharp movement but Raphaella hushes them, ducking her head so that her golden hair falls in a curtain around them. “I’m sorry, I’m trying not to- It's gonna be- You’re going to be alright, Lyf. You’re going to be alright,”

They know, Marius already promised that, but it still hurts. They choke down a sob as Raphaella flares her wings and launches forward. They’re flying through the ship. Lyf hadn’t thought the corridors were wide enough for Raph to fly through but she was flying. They hear Marius’ boots behind them but they can’t see anything beyond the curtain of Raph’s hair. They can see Raph’s face, though, even if it is behind splotches of rainbow. She’s crying. They don’t want her to cry. They try to purr but the rumble barely begins before it’s cut off by a choked gasp. They can’t purr. It hurts too much. That’s okay, though. They have other ways to comfort her. They lean up a little, static echoing in their ears, and press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “It’s gonna be okay, Raph. You and von Raum- you’re good at science and- and Marius is a doctor.”

She’s still crying but her mouth twitches up in a smile and oh- they’d left a little black stain where they’d kissed her. They’d forgotten they’d put on lipstick. Had they put on lipstick? They must have. Lipstick doesn’t just appear. And based on the color, it was Ashes’ favorite black lipstick. They’d stolen it. They had to put it back quickly before they realized otherwise… otherwise, there’d be fire. Lots and lots of fire. Ashes would never set _them_ on fire, Lyf knows that, but they’d set their stuff on fire. They didn’t want their stuff on fire.

“We’re here, Lyf, you’re gonna be alright.” Raphaella lands and lays them on one of the beds in the medbay. Distantly they’re aware that it should have hurt, but the static is singing to them and they just feel numb. It’s going to be okay though. Raph and Marius promised.

Marius is suddenly over them too. He’s crying, just like Raph, and Lyf frowns. They want to make them smile again. It’s going to be okay. They grab Marius’ hand and press a kiss to it, leaving a mark like Raphaella’s. Lyf smiles up at them. “You- you match now,”

Marius and Raphaella look at each other, tears still streaming down their faces. Marius sniffs and wipes his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, Lyf. We do,” And the two of them get to work. Lyf watches them for a while, handling scalpels and IV lines and- and- they really don’t know. They don’t know anything about docting. And it’s getting harder to watch them through the rainbows crowding their vision. And the static is singing to them. It used to scare them, they think, but now it’s just singing to them. They close their eyes and listen. It’s pretty, and the rainbows pulsing under their eyelids are rather mesmerizing. Marius says something and they hum an acknowledgment, but they’re too tired to talk to him. They’d rather just… watch the rainbows until Raph and Marius are done. Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. Lyfrassir lets themself sink into the numb static song. It’s going to be okay.

-

It's so easy to forget that Lyf is mortal. When they grin the way they do, sharp teeth bared just enough that it falls between threatening and mischievous, firing their gun off while the firelight dances on their face, hair falling out of the intricate braids they’d tied it up in for the concert, it’s _so easy_ to forget that they can die. That they’ve only been with the mechanisms for three years. That they’re mortal.

He shouldn’t have forgotten, not for a second. This is his fault. He was standing right next to Lyf. He should have realized, should have run behind them, should have taken the bullet instead. It’d torn right through, cutting in from one side of their back and exiting from the other side of their stomach. There was- there was _so much blood_ and it was on their clothes and their face and staining their teeth and in the shape of their lips on the back of Marius’ hand. Raphaella has a matching mark on the corner of her mouth.

Lyf seems delirious, grinning up at them when just a few moments ago they’d been crying in pain, clutching Marius’ arm so hard their fingernails had left little crescent moon indents in his skin. They’d done that _through his shirt_. But now… now it seems that they can’t feel anything at all.

Marius works quickly with Raphaella. They have to clean the wound, stitch it up – oh god how bad is the damage inside? How bad is the internal bleeding? – and bandage it and hope to whatever god still exists that Lyf makes it through. He knows the other Mechanisms followed, that they’re waiting outside the door. He hears Ivy’s voice, saying something about a less than 10% chance and he grits his teeth and blocks them out. He hooks Lyf’s vitals up and the sharp beeping of the heart monitor grounds him. He has a job to do. And by god, he’s gonna do it.

Lyf blinks slowly at him while he cuts away their shirt. He’s going to buy Lyf a new one, ten new ones, hell, he’ll steal the whole fucking store for Lyf when this is over. When Lyf is better. Because Lyf is gonna be okay.

The wound is horrible. How had they even kept running? Thick black blood soaks into their clothes, still bubbling up with every feeble beat of Lyf’s heart. He has to stem the bleeding somehow, get it to stop. Raphaella is already at it, though, using suction and looking for the worst source of it. Marius grabs the tools they’ll need and rejoins her.

He starts humming while he works but Lyf doesn’t seem to hear it. He looks over and sees their eyes drooping. “No, hey, Lyf stay with me. It’s gonna be alright.”

“Mm,” they mutter and flick their eyes up to look at him briefly, but he can tell they’re not really _seeing_ anything. Their eyes flutter closed again. And then their heart stops.

“No!” Marius screams. Raphaella flutters her wings, panic creeping into her eyes but she keeps her hands steady, keeps trying to fix Lyf. Marius slams his hands into Lyf’s chest. It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s just a stutter. Lyf’s fine. They’re going to be fine. He just has to get their heart to start again. He pumps frantically – _one-and-two-and-three-and-four-and_ – and when he reaches thirty he tilts Lyf’s head back and forces air into their lungs. Their lips taste like oil and iron and blood. It’s fine. They’ll be fine. He does it again. And again. And again. And again.

Arms wrap around his shoulders but he can’t see through the tears. Lyf is fine. Lyf is going to be fine. The arms try to pull him away. “No! Let me go! Let me go! I have to save them!”

“Marius-“ Ivy’s not the one holding him but she is the voice he hears. He doesn’t like her tone. “They’re gone.”

“No!” He wrenches free of the arms holding him – Tim’s arms – and has his gun up at Ivy, a bullet between her eyes before she can even blink. He is back at Lyf’s side, pounding at their heart, begging them to wake up. “Please, Lyfrassir, please, please, you can’t- you can’t _do_ this. Not to us.” He is dimly aware of Raphaella sobbing, even as she tugs him away too. Gently, so, so gently, like he is a glass that could shatter if she so much as breathes on him wrong. “They- they _can’t_ be. Not yet. They were supposed to have more time. We were supposed to have more time.”

“I know,” Raphaella wraps her arms around him and so does Tim, and Ivy is back and is hugging him too and everyone else joins in, holding each other and mourning. Even _Aurora_ keens, the high whining creak echoing around them. She and Nastya had both loved Lyf too, even if it was not in the same way as the others.

That was the trouble with loving mortals. They die. They’re stupid and fragile and they _die_. And the mechanisms? They don’t. They’re stuck here, forever, without the person they foolishly loved. They were all so foolish, but they had thought they had more time. They had thought surely after living so long, after knowing that Lyf would die eventually, that it wouldn’t hurt this much. Marius knows the others feel the same pain in their chests, the same gaping hole left where Lyfrassir had been ripped away.

It's a long time before they finally separate, untangling themselves from the pile. They can’t just leave Lyf there covered in blood. There is work to be done. Ivy and Brian slip away to the library to research Midgard’s funeral rites. Lyfrassir hadn’t told them; they hadn’t thought they needed to yet. Jonny stalks out of the room, but Marius knows better than to follow. Jonny’s grief is violent and Marius doesn’t want to waste time regenerating, even if it would free him from his emotions for a while. Ashes and Tim leave side by side and he can guess they’re going to blow up the planet. He doesn’t really care. Nastya climbs up behind Lyf on the bed and props their head in her lap. She takes out their rumpled braids and sections off a bit of hair, weaving a neat braid back into it. Marius watches her work for a moment, Lyf’s oil-spill hair shimmering rainbow where the light hits it.

“What Are You Doing?” A chipper voice startles Marius and he nearly decks The Toy Soldier. Its head is tilted to one side and despite the permanent smile painted onto its face it looks perplexed.

Marius opens his mouth, but all that he manages is a strangled noise, tears springing to his eyes. The Toy Soldier somehow looks more confused.

“What’s Wrong Old Chap?” It asks. It’s oblivious, Marius knows this, knows he has to tell it what happened, but how do you explain death to something that barely understands life? Especially when its only reference is people for whom death doesn’t work quite right. He looks over at Nastya. Her hands fall still and she gives The Toy Soldier and long, sad look.

“TS, Lyfrassir is… Lyf died,”

And god, it feels like a punch to his gut to hear it out loud. He makes a choked noise and hears Raphaella suck in a breath.

“Well Of Course! But They’ll Be Back!” It sounds so sure. Marius bites his lip hard and turns away, choosing to join Raphaella in cleaning the blood from Lyf’s clothes and skin. Raphaella is working on the wound in their abdomen, the rag in her hand stained black already. Marius picks up another rag and dunks it in the bowl of warm water.

“No, TS, Lyf is… not like us,”

Marius blinks rapidly to clear his vision. It’s not fair. _It’s not fair_. They were supposed to have more time. He runs the cloth carefully over Lyf’s face – they look like they’re just sleeping but they’re _not_ , he _knows_ they’re not – wiping away the ash and debris from the planetside visit, the muddy tear tracks that carve paths down their cheeks. There’s black blood on their lips, staining their teeth, the shape of it marking the back of Marius’ hand, the corner of Raphaella’s mouth. His hands shake as he wipes away the rivulets running down their chin.

“What Do You Mean?”

Nastya pauses for a moment. Marius doesn’t look at her, choosing instead to study Lyf’s face and commit it to memory. He’s never going to see them again but he refuses to forget. Their face will not blur into the background like so many before it. Their skin has gone ashen, their eyes closed. Their dark eyelashes curl and Marius remembers kissing their eyelids gently when they’d had nightmares. He’s sure the others did it too when Lyf went to them. It reminded them that they were here and they were safe – they were _supposed to be safe_.

“Lyfrassir has stopped pretending.”

The Toy Soldier somehow goes rigid. Marius hadn’t expected it to be able to do that seeing as it was made of wood; it always seems rigid. But its stiff lines get stiffer, its joints frozen at odd angles, the painted smile on its face entirely wrong. “They’re Just… Taking A Break Though, Right?”

“No,” Nastya shakes her head gently. “They aren’t playing anymore. They’re not going to start pretending again. Not like us. They’re done playing.”

The Toy Soldier looks utterly distraught. It’s jaw clicks open and shut. Marius has never seen it at a loss for words, but it had loved Lyf too. He reaches out and touches its arm. It takes a shuddering, creaking step forward, reaching a wooden hand out, and traces the shape of Lyf’s jaw. Bright resin makes its eyes shine.

“They Didn’t Tell Me They Didn’t Want To Play Anymore.” It says. “They Promised They Would Tell Me When They Didn’t Want To Play Anymore.”

“They wanted to keep playing,” Marius croaks. They’d trusted him to save them. He’d promised them they would be okay. But he’s _not a goddamn doctor_ – _he’s never even set foot in a fucking medical school_. The mechanisms have never needed a doctor before, but he should have tried to learn the second Lyf chose to stay. “They got- they had to stop. They didn’t want to but they- they stopped.”

“They’re Not… Coming Back?”

“No,” Marius says. He presses his hand to his mouth as if that could hold back the sobs that threaten to tear through him.

“Do you want to put a braid in their hair?” Nastya asks The Toy Soldier. Marius hears it shift and then an affirmative click as it nods. He looks back up as Nastya scoots over and gestures for The Toy Soldier to climb up next to her. It climbs up as carefully as it can and does its best to mimic Nastya’s braiding on its own section of Lyf’s hair.

By the time The Toy Soldier has finished its messy braid, the planet below them is blown to bits. The explosion rocks the ship and Nastya – who finished her braid fairly quickly – pauses in instructing The Toy Soldier to pat _Aurora_ ’s wall reassuringly. Tim and Ashes return to the med bay. Their faces are covered in grime, streaks carved down their cheeks by tears. Marius and Raphaella move to embrace them. While Tim is absolutely rigid, Ashes is twitchy. When they finally pull apart with a few whispers and a kiss on the head for each of them from Raph, Ashes pulls out their lighter and starts absently flicking it open and closed. They watch the flame, pointedly not looking at Lyf.

Marius puts his hand on Ashes’ shoulder. “I think… maybe we should put a braid in their hair, too. One from each of us.”

“Why?” Ashes’ voice is rough. “It won’t matter to them.”

Marius bites his lip. “No, but it would have. And it could matter to you.”

Ashes is silent, flicking their lighter open and closed with a solid _click, click, click._ He squeezes their shoulder gently and they stop, close their lighter, and pocket it. “Alright,”

He and Ashes take the places that Nastya and The Toy Soldier had been in moments before and put their own braids in Lyf’s hair. Their hair slips between his fingers like silk. The dark strands gleam iridescent in the light as he weaves the sections over, under, over, under, and ties it off. The braid Ashes puts in is a bit more intricate, and judging from the way their hands are shaking, much more personal. Ashes and Ivy had been the first to know about Midgard’s culture surrounding hair, and they had been the first to be allowed to style Lyf’s hair. Lyf was going to teach Marius other braids, but his fingers stumbled even with the simple ones and he’d put it off, wanting more practice first. He regrets that now. He would give anything to have Lyf back, guiding him through the patterns of each braid, telling him what they meant back on Midgard.

He snaps a band on the end of the braid to finish it and slides off the bed. Tim takes his place and puts his own braid into their hair. When Ashes finishes their braid, Raphaella slides in to leave her own. Lyf’s wound is cleaned, but still open. Marius rifles through cabinets until he finds what he’s looking for: surgical needles and floss. He doesn’t want to leave Lyf’s wound open, though it makes no difference now. Their skin has taken on an ashen tone and is cold to the touch as Marius works the needle through the torn edges.

Brian and Ivy return while he’s stitching. Ivy holds a book close to her chest in a way that reminds Marius of a child clutching a stuffed toy. They soon catch on to what the others are doing, and Ivy puts her book down on a countertop. She and Brian take Tim and Raphaella’s places and they each put braids in Lyf’s hair. Like Ashes, Ivy’s braid seems personal, and she pauses every few moments in the way she does when she’s recalling information. She must be using one of the braids Lyf taught her. Marius ties off his final stitch and does his best not to think about all the braids he’ll never get to learn.

Brian’s braid is simple, but he still weaves their hair carefully. His brow furrows in thought as his hands move. Marius clenches his fists. His hands itch for something else to do, something to drown out his emotions just a little bit longer, but there’s nothing left. He stares at Lyfrassir and pretends they’re just sleeping.

“Marius.”

He blinks dully and looks over. The rest of the crew is huddled together, Raphaella’s wings encircling them in an embrace. Nastya holds out her hand to him, beckoning him to join them. He barely feels his feet touch the floor as he takes her hand and moves into the circle of Raph’s wings. It's warm in his partners’ embrace, but something is missing.

Jonny stalks into the room and he smells like gunpowder. He clutches some folded fabric in his arms and Marius realizes that he’s carrying Lyf’s favorite formal outfit: a long glittering skirt and a star-patterned button-up. Marius tightens his hold on his partners as the flood of memories threatens to tear him down. Taking Lyfrassir to a Yule Ball back on Midgard (they’d yelled at him and Raph and Ivy for breaking out again before finally admitting that they did not, in fact, have a date). The mechs all taking turns dancing with Lyf on their birthday while _Aurora_ played music around them (they’d smiled so wide, their sharp teeth glinting in the starlight that filtered in through the windows). Taking Lyf on planetside dates (Lyf’s hand in his while they just walked around town).

And then he realizes what he’s missing. The gentle rumble of Lyfrassir’s purring is achingly absent. According to Ivy, Yggdrisilians purred to comfort themselves and people they love, but Marius hadn’t really thought about it. He’d just been glad to have the familiar rumble after a rare nightmare when Lyf would sweep him into their arms, the same rumble when it was Lyf who had had the nightmare, the same rumble when Lyf was sprawled out on Ivy’s chest while she tried to read, the same rumble when any of them braided Lyf’s hair. Now the rumble is gone when Marius needs comfort the most and it is this realization that breaks the dam holding his tears back.

He sobs and holds his partners close. If he lets go, he thinks, he might crumble completely. They are warm, their chests rising and falling unevenly with their own hitched cries, their hearts still beating always beating _never stop beating_ -

Ivy slips a band around the end of her braid and Jonny takes her place, passing off the clothes to her as he does so. He braids with the same gruff demeanor as he does everything else, but his braid is neat – it’s always neat – betraying the hidden gentle touch he had always reserved for the privilege of touching Lyf’s hair. Jonny understood the intimacy of the act in Lyf’s culture and he respected it. He always respected their boundaries, no matter how much of a bastard he may be otherwise.

Brian finishes his braid and slips away. He picks up the book Ivy had carried in with her and flips to a page somewhere in the middle of the book. He’s quiet, eyes darting over the page and Marius knows what’s on it.

Jonny finishes his braid and silently takes the clothes back from Ivy. He starts peeling off Lyfrassir’s blood-soaked clothes Marius finally realizes what he’s doing. He moves to help, feels his partners do the same, but Jonny shoots them a wordless glare that leaves no room for argument; he’s going to do this himself. Jonny tosses the ruined clothes in a heap on the floor and redresses Lyf in the skirt and button-up. He cups their cheek and just stares at them.

It’s unnerving, seeing Jonny like this. Or, at least, it would be if Marius had room for any emotion other than grief. It’s overwhelming, tearing him apart from the inside out. If he had been a little more careful, a little faster, a little bit more _competent_ he wouldn’t be feeling this at all. Lyf would still be alive. They would be planning for their next gig while someone rebraided their hair (not all of them – not like this). He tries to take a deep breath but it catches on a sob. So he reaches out and tugs Jonny, who glares and struggles half-heartedly, into his hold. He just holds his partners until all of them have run out of tears to cry.

Ivy and Brian look at each other over the book open in front of them, then at the rest of their partners. Marius pulls back and waits for them to speak. Ivy looks one more time at Brian, who nods, and then sucks in a breath. “Midgardian custom is to… is to cremate their dead. We have to-” she stops. Blinks hard. “We have to burn their body.”

“We’ll be passing a star tomorrow.” Brian cuts in. “We’ll burn them then.”

The room is silent but everyone understands. They say their goodbyes, whispers of love and glittering tears dampening Lyfrassir’s cool face, and then slowly they leave the room. They will not be ready for tomorrow. They will never be ready. But they must at least try to be.

-

Lyfrassir doesn’t know where they are. They don’t know where they are and the static has dissolved into a true song, loud and all-encompassing and cacophonous. It rattles them down to their very bones, echoes in their skull, begs them to sing, sing, _sing_ but they clamp their jaw shut so hard that their teeth ache. They can’t let themself sing along but for the life of them, they can’t remember why.

The rainbow, too, is brighter, sharper, more insistent. It stabs into their eyes and circles their body, brushing their skin gently – oh so gently – and it’s jarring to feel the cool touch of color in their veins when it hurts so much to look at. They feel it curling in them, joining them, becoming them, and from the haze of jumbled thoughts and half-hidden memories, the word “ _apotheosis”_ jumps out.

But they don’t want apotheosis. They want to know where they are, they want to know how they got here, they want to know what’s happening. They want the singing to stop. They want the rainbows to go away. They want to go _home_.

They curl in on themself, tears bubbling from their eyes, shimmering with that same rainbow light that now surrounds them before dissolving into the everything-nothing all around them. They can’t think through the panic, the rainbow distortion, the crashing static, but they’re sure that even if they could it wouldn’t make sense. Sanity doesn’t exist in this place and they don’t know how they know this but it’s true. Is it true? It must be if they’re questioning something they’re so sure they know. How do they know? How did they get here?

The rainbows crawl into their veins, buzzing with static as the feeling spreads with every thud, thud, thud of their frantic heart. Why can’t they sing? The song is so loud – it’s inside them now – they know the words, they could sing so easily. Why does it feel so important that they don’t, that they clamp their jaw hard enough to draw blood from their desperate tongue?

They chaos thrums through their whole body, pulling, warping, twisting, and yet it’s gentle. They do not understand why its humming static feels warm in their chest, why they still have a chest (the squamous things have no shape anymore so they cannot be squamous if they have a chest), why it does not claw them apart. Even so, they do not want this apotheosis and they twist away but they can’t escape. It’s inside them, it’s all around them, holding them steady in a firm embrace and they _can’t get away_ –

And then something breaks through. A hand closes around their wrist and tugs them in a direction – which direction? What even is a direction? - humming a countermelody to the static song. They cling to the reprieve, clutching desperately at the one thing that might make sense if they even knew what sense was. The static dwindles and fades, the rainbows chasing but unable to reach, and Lyfrassir can think again. They blink the lingering colors out of their eyes and are greeted with the image of an engine room. Not just any engine room – no they know this one, had had it burned into their retinas by the Black Box – but the engine room of the Ratatosk Express. And standing before them with her hand around their wrist is Loki.

“-you hear me? Lyfrassir Edda, are you back?”

They blink a few more times, trying to wrestle their scattered thoughts into order. “I- uh- I think so. Maybe. I don’t- I don’t know-”

“Hey, that’s alright. There’s not much sense in this place. Do you remember how you got here?”

They try to shift through the memories that are slowly clicking back into place but they can’t- they can’t- _it hurts-I know-you're gonna be alright_ \- they can’t remember. “No- no I don’t-”

“That’s alright, that’s alright. You’ll remember, just give it time.” Loki smiles softly at them.

“Where am I?” They ask.

“The Bifrost.” A new voice says, rougher than Loki’s but still just as gentle – Sigyn. “You just showed up.”

“You still seemed together enough, so we brought you somewhere a bit more stable.” Loki grimaces. “Well, as stable as the Bifrost gets. We’re still not sure how you’re still – well – _not squamous_ after spending that long in there.”

Lyfrassir nods slowly and looks down at where Loki’s fingers are still wrapped around their wrist. Even between the gaps, Lyf can see their veins pulsing rainbow. They know what it means, even as they don’t want to admit it. It’s been building – the faint sheen in their hair, the colors they know they shouldn’t be able to perceive, the static and rainbows that faded in and out – and now they know why. “It’s part of me,” they whisper. It feels unreal, but then what doesn’t in the clutches of the Bifrost. “It can’t- can’t do _that-_ because it’s already a part of me.”

Loki and Sigyn exchange a look and Loki pulls back her hand. Lyfrassir almost cries at the sudden loss of contact. Before they get the chance, though, they’re wrapped up in both women’s arms, surrounded by the sound they never thought they’d hear again – _purring_. After the destruction of Yggdrasil, they thought their own purring would be the only one they’d get to hear again, but the comforting rumble of Loki and Sigyn’s purring is enough to drag a sob from their chest. They whisper apologies to Lyf and they clutch them closer. Something about this feels familiar but their memories are still hazy. They’re becoming clearer, though.

Loki squeezes Lyf’s shoulders and lets them go, Sigyn following suit. “If that’s why you’re here then you must have an anchor keeping you stable.”

“What do you mean?”

“Loki and I keep each other stable here. The Bifrost can’t tear us apart if we have each other. You must have something holding you together as well.”

“I-” Lyf furrows their brow. Yes. Yes, they do. They know they do, it’s nestled in the core of them. Now that it’s been brought to their attention, they can feel the warmth holding them together. The memories are right there – if they could just _reach them_ \- and they catch a flash of _golden hair, a dorky smile, books_ , and another memory slots into place.

“Yes- yes I do, they’re-”

_The scent of smoke, polished wood, gleaming brass._

“They’re right there, I’m trying- I can remember them I swear-”

_Buzzing harmonica, long soft hair, humming engines._

“They’re my- they're my-”

The memory clears and Lyf’s heart swells. They could sob. “They’re my loves. My partners- they saved me- I need to get to them-”

“Hey, hey, calm down, Lyfrassir, we’ll figure it out.” Sigyn touches their shoulder. “If we can figure out how you got here we might be able to get you back out.”

“I was- I was shot. I think I died.” They choke out between sobs. They want to go _home_. They need their partners. Hel, their partners need _them._ They all just watched Lyf _die_ and they don’t know that Lyf is still here, they don’t _know_.

“Oh-” Loki sucks in a breath and sets her hand on their other shoulder. “It must have called you back to regenerate you. The Bifrost is- it can be a bit-” she looks at her wife, evidently searching for the right word. “Possessive? It doesn’t appreciate losing anything, so it certainly would not allow something it’s claimed to die.”

Claimed. They’ve been claimed by the Bifrost, the thing that destroyed their world, and it is a part of them. They knew, deep down, but they never wanted to really think about it. They weren’t ready to face what that might mean. They’re still not ready, but they don’t have time for a breakdown right now. They force themself to focus on what’s important.

“So I can- I can go back?” Lyf clings to that thought, to reading with Ivy, to burning things with Ashes, to braiding Tim’s hair, to laughing with Marius, to everything they do with the mechs, and they use it to hold themself together. They need to go back.

“It’s possible,” Loki says. “Sigyn and I are here because we are each others’ anchors, but you – your anchors aren’t in the Bifrost. You might be able to get to them.”

Lyf smiles. They can. They’re sure they can. There is no other option. They _have to go back_. “Thank you. Thank you both for everything.”

Loki and Sigyn smile back at them. “Go home, Lyfrassir.”

And they do. They close their eyes and reach out through the swirling chaos of the Bifrost, out and out and out and out until _finally,_ they feel the warmth of the _Aurora_ – their home.

-

Lyfrassir jolts awake in the medbay of the _Aurora._ A sob of relief escapes their lips. They made it. They’re home. The Bifrost is little more than a buzz in their veins, easily drowned out by the creak and groan of the ship around them. The room is empty, but an open book sits on the counter next to the bed. They pull it toward them with trembling fingers. The page details Midgard’s funeral rites – their partners must have been preparing to burn them. They shove the book away, guilt settling heavy in their stomach. They promised their partners that they had more time and then they _died_. They have to go find them, make this right.

They swing their feet over the edge of the bed and realize they’re in different clothes – their star-patterned button-up and glittering skirt. Their hair feels different, too, and they reach up to find nine braids under their fingers. They smile and let out a shaky sigh before pushing themself off the bed. They have to let their partners know they’re alright.

They take a few trembling steps, re-adjusting to a solid body, and once they’re satisfied that they’re not about to come crashing down, they head into the hallway, leaning on the wall for support. They realize only when the lights flicker to life that _Aurora_ had been silent until their hand met the wall. She clicks tentatively and a panel slides out of the wall to reveal a screen.

> _Lyfrassir?_

They lean their forehead against the wall. “It’s me, _Aurora_ , I’m alright.” _Aurora_ hums under their touch, lights flickering around them. “I missed you, too. Where are the others? I need to let them know I’m alright.”

> _Kitchen._

Lyf starts walking, trailing their hand along the wall. Their body feels fuzzy, like static. They’re avoiding looking too closely at their hands. They know what they’ll see in their veins, they can still feel it. They think instead about Loki and Sigyn, and the small taste of home they’d gotten in their arms. They’d thought the two of them to be dead. They’d have never considered that they’d be absorbed into the Bifrost, tucked away into its very core. And now- well now, they suppose, they’re part of the Bifrost, too. That’s something they’ll have to actually unpack now that it’s become very much relevant.

As they near the kitchen they strain their ears, trying to pick up any hint of the usual gunfire and conversation. A clattering dish, the sizzle of food cooking on the stove. Hel, they’d even take their partners shouting at Raphaella for using the kitchen to do Science again. But their walk remains silent up to the doorway, at which point they can just barely make out the slight clink of silverware. They round the corner and lean unsteadily against the doorframe. They could cry, seeing them all like this – heads bowed, picking solemnly at what looks to be breakfast, most of them still in yesterday’s clothes. The Toy Soldier doesn’t even bother pretending to eat. It just stares blankly at its plate. Raphaella and Marius still have the lipstick stains they’d left. No, not lipstick, they realize with horror. Blood. They’d left them with their blood. Gods, it hurts watching them.

No one notices them, so they clear their throat, and all at once, their partners freeze. Lyf watches as each one of them processes the fact that all of the crewmates are accounted for then look up. They gape. Marius drops his fork.

“Lyfrassir?” His voice wobbles and tears flood his eyes.

Lyf smiles. “von Raum.”

Marius launches himself across the table and the movement stirs the others into action, quickly joining Marius in a tight huddle around Lyf. They fold into their partner’s arms, sobs shaking them all even as Lyf whispers quiet reassurances of “It’s okay, I’m okay, I’m alive, I’m here.” They purr, quietly at first, and then as Marius’ arms tighten around them, louder.

It’s a long, long time before anyone pulls away, and even then, they don’t go far. Lyf presses a kiss to each of their partners’ lips, but pause before the Toy Soldier. They would not have kissed it anyway – that was the first boundary it had set when the Mechanisms had taught it that it was allowed to set boundaries – but the Toy Soldier still looks distraught, even with its painted smile. Lyfrassir takes its hands and squeezes them gently. “I’m here, TS, I promise.”

It opens and closes its mouth a few times, jaw clicking, then reaches out and touches one of the braids on Lyf’s head. “You Promised You Would Tell Me When You Didn’t Want To Play Anymore, But You Didn’t- And Then- And Then Nastya Said You Weren’t Going To Start Pretending Again- But You Are And I Don’t- I Don’t Understand-”

“Hey, Hey, TS it’s okay.” Lyf cups its cheek and it leans into the touch, sticky resin running down from the corners of its eyes. Raphaella touches its shoulder, then wraps her arms around it. Lyf wipes at the Toy Soldier’s tears with their thumb, but only succeeds in smearing the resin. “I’ll explain what happened to you, to- to all of you. Come with me.”

Lyf takes Marius and the Toy Soldier’s hands and tug them out of the kitchen to the common room, the others linking up and following. They tug their partners down into the blanket nest they had built one movie night and never really got around to cleaning up. Here they can all see each other’s faces while staying in close contact.

Lyf looks the Toy Soldier in the eye. “I wanted to keep playing, TS. I didn’t know I would be pulled out of the game, and I didn’t have time to tell you. I would have if I’d had the chance. I didn’t leave you on purpose.”

The Toy Soldier nods. “You Are Not Going To Stop Playing Again?”

“Not as far as I know.”

At this point, Tim speaks up. “You were dead. We watched you die.”

“Yeah,” Lyf shrugs, trying for levity, hoping it will help. “But I got better.” They do not get the snickering they’d hoped for.

“ _Aurora_ told me… she told me you were still here a few moments ago. But I thought-” Nastya shudders. “She’s had ghosts before. I thought it was a glitch in her code.”

“She told me where to find you all when I woke up.”

“We were going to burn you.” Ashes says, deadpan, but they can see their lighter flicking open and shut in their hand. Brian and Ivy look at each other.

“I had some books from Yggdrasil in the library-” Ivy starts.

“We looked up Midgards funeral customs. The book said you would burn your dead.” Brian finishes. Lyf nods and smiles, glad that their partners put the effort into looking up their rites.

Though they cringe away from the idea of dying again, they try for another half-joke. “Hypothetically, I can’t die. So you can certainly still try.”

Ashes eyes widen, then they smirk and pocket their lighter. “Better watch your back then, love.”

“How are you alive?” Raphaella cuts in, leaning forward, and _there_ – Lyf can see that familiar spark of curiosity flickering back to life behind her eyes. They smile wider.

“Bifrost fuckery. Turns out it’s rather possessive. Doesn’t give up its things very easily.”

Her mouth falls open with a quick intake of breath and she reaches to grab their hand. They chuckle. “Yes, Raph you can run a few tests. Just- not right now.”

She closes her mouth and opens it again. “I- yes- but that’s not- are you okay?” She finally asks, squeezing their hand and looking them in the eye.

Lyf blushes. Oh, she’d been concerned for their mental health. Of course. They’re so used to watching her run experiments on the others that they hadn’t thought of any other response. “Y- yes, actually. I met Loki and Sigyn, and they helped me get back to you.”

Lyf sees Jonny perk up at the thread of a story unfinished. He had been sitting towards the edge of the huddle, arms crossed and glaring. Anyone else would see a threat but Lyfrassir knew that Jonny’s defense was to throw up a violent façade, unaffected by the roiling sea of painful emotions. He did not show vulnerability often, and even when he did it was a fleeting thing, like some frightened animal that could bolt at a wrong look. They were all working on a way to coax it out of him, to show him that he could go to them for support.

Lyf makes direct eye contact with him, holds it even as he tries to look away. “I’ll tell you the story sometime, Jonny.” A promise. _I’m not going anywhere_.


End file.
